


Accidentally on Purpose

by Cliophilyra



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Peter Parker/Top Wade Wilson, Fuck Or Die, Kinda, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Pollen, also kinda - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:54:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25428007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cliophilyra/pseuds/Cliophilyra
Summary: An accident in Stark's lab has unexpected consequences. This is just plotless filth again really - let's not pretend otherwise...
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 508





	Accidentally on Purpose

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not keen on the title but I can't think of a better one and titles are my nemesis. Enjoy! Let me know what you think :)

Peter is falling asleep at his bench. He blinks hard, trying to clear the fog from his brain as the figures on the screen in front of him slide in and out of focus. He sighs and rests his head in his hands, rubbing his knuckles over his eyes and yawning widely.

“We keeping you up?” Stark says from behind him. Peter starts guiltily and shakes his head.

“Sorry, no I...” he tails off. 

“Late night?” Stark asks with a knowing smirk. 

Peter smiles awkwardly and mumbles something in vague agreement. Whatever Stark thinks he knows is almost definitely pretty far from the truth. Spiderman might be a sort-of-kinda member of the Avengers but Peter Parker is still just a grad student and newish employee of SI – trying to make a good impression on the boss. If only he had been up all night drinking or having sex like a normal 25 year old; but that would mean he had a life beyond studying, rescuing the mostly ungrateful populace and, since last night apparently, entertaining embarrassing sexual fantasies about his friend. 

Fuck knows what it says about him that he even started thinking of Deadpool as his friend at all, instead of, you know, his mortal enemy, but God help him, he did. He genuinely likes spending time with the man, looks forward to his random chaotic appearances in his life. Wade is funny, thoughtful, and surprisingly kind and, as crazy as it sounds, Peter genuinely trusts him with his life. Trusts him enough that a week ago he told him his real name with barely a second thought. Then there is the matter of how good he looks in his suit, a situation which Peter had not been entirely ready to address – at least consciously - until his overheated brain decided that in fact, he was ready to address it and he should spend all night addressing it instead of sleeping. Now the idea of seeing Wade again is giving him palpitations – how the hell to you maintain casual friendship with someone after you’ve spent several hours imagining precisely how you would like them to fuck you? Asking for a friend. 

He covers his blush with his hand, stifling a fake yawn.

“The intern has been out carousing and now he’s falling asleep at his post,” Stark says with a grin, turning to Dr Banner who has entered the room baring a tray of suspiciously glowing test tubes. 

Bruce rolls his eyes. “Leave him alone Tony. For one thing, he’s not an intern and for another, I dread to think what you were like at his age.”

“Drunk,” Tony says cheerfully. “Pretty much constantly – but I was also extremely rich so I didn’t have to worry about getting canned.”

“Whatever, leave the man alone. Technically I’m his boss, not you.”

“Ah but I’m your boss.”

“Ha!”

Peter tries to tune them out and focus on the data he’s supposed to be checking. His eyes feel gritty and dry and he can’t remember what he’s supposed to be checking for. He just wants to put his head down again. 

“Peter?” He looks up to see Banner looking at him sympathetically. “I said, why don’t you take a break for a while?”

Peter starts to demur but Bruce’s raised eyebrow means business and he finds himself nodding. “Um...ok, if you’re sure?”

“I’m sure we’ll manage without you for an hour or so,” Tony says. “Come back when you’re more human.”

Peter gets up, his head is still foggy with tiredness and his legs are stiff from sitting for so long. As he turns he staggers slightly and reaches out a hand to grab at something to steady himself. Unfortunately the nearest thing happens to be Bruce and his tray of samples. The tray slips and the vials fall, pouring their contents over the tray, the floor and Peter’s hand.

“Shit!” The unexpected expletive from Banner makes Peter look up in fear. Bruce looks panicked, his eyes are wide although there doesn’t seem to be any tinge of green. He is staring at the luminous liquid splashed across the back of Peter’s hand which, as they watch, seems to sink into his skin. Peter shakes his hand, babbling apologies while trying not to freak out. 

“It’s ok, ok, don’t panic. Just...get in the decontamination shower now,” Stark says, shoving him toward the cubicle in the corner of the lab. Peter stumbles in, fully clothed and the water streams over him, soaking him as he tries to scrub his hand and pull off his t-shirt at the same time. 

Stark and Banner stare at him through the glass then glance at each other nervously. After ten minutes the water stops and he steps out and stands in a soggy puddle, even more disorientated than he had been before. 

“How do you feel?” Banner looks concerned. Peter takes stock of himself. His hands feel a little tingly but otherwise he just feels a general sense of mortification – but that may have already been there. Mostly he just wants to go home and hide and write off today as a bad idea. He knew he should never have gotten out of bed in the first place.

“Ok I think? My hand feels a bit weird.” He holds it up and Banner takes it, examining the skin closely. There is no sign at all of the liquid now as he turns it over, chewing his lip thoughtfully. Stark hovers, looking like he’s worried but trying not to show it.

“What was that?” Peter asks. 

“An experimental hormone compound,” Bruce explains unhappily. “It’s part of my mood stabilizing research. It should be harmless for me but...”

“I’m sure it’s ok,” Peter says, trying to sound confident. He doesn’t have the best track record with experimental compounds but he’s also not as human as Bruce thinks he is so, hopefully...

“Yeah,” Bruce echoes. “I’m sure it is...you feel ok otherwise?”

Peter nods, he really wants to go home. His heart is pounding from the shock, he feels sweaty and anxious. “Can I go home? I think I just need to sleep.”

Stark nods. “’course. I’ll get JARVIS to get you a cab. Get some sleep and call us if you feel weird or sick at all, even a bit, ok?”

“Ok, thanks Mr Stark.” Peter is barely listening any more, blood is rushing in his ears, he really needs to lie down.

***

The cab drops him outside his apartment and he drags himself up the stairs. When he gets in he peels off the scrubs they gave him to replace his soaked clothes and drops naked onto his bed. His heart is still racing and he feels light-headed. It’s just the shock. He just needs to sleep. His skin feels too tight.

***

Wade clambers noisily up the fire escape of Peter’s building, weapons clanging on the metal, greasy take-out dripping from the bag in his hand. He is ridiculously excited, as usual, to meet up with Peter. Deadpool and Spiderman have been patrolling together for months but it’s only been a week since he found out Peter’s real identity. The fact that he trusted him not only with his real name but his real address, and that he seems to be genuinely happy for Wade to turn up and visit pretty much whenever he likes, never ceases to amaze him. He is almost beginning to think that Peter actually likes having him around, despite The Boxes best efforts to convince him otherwise. 

When he reaches Peter’s open window he sticks his head in. “Yo! Petey-pie! S’up?” There’s no answer so he climbs in and stands in the small living room, trying to avoid dripping grease on the carpet. “Pete!” he calls again and hears a small muffled groan from the next room, it sounds like someone in pain. Wade drops the food on the table and shoves open the door without a second thought. The sight that greets him pulls him up short and he stands transfixed in the doorway, mouth falling open under his mask. 

Peter is lying on his bed completely naked, His skin is shiny with sweat, the light from the window making him seem to glow. His hair is damp, sticking up in random directions and his eyes are closed. His mouth hangs open and his breath comes in short pants and gulps. He twists in the sheets that tangle between his legs and, most noticeably, his cock is rock hard, twitching against the muscles of his stomach, looking almost painful. He groans again, his hands clenching at his sides. 

Wade can’t breathe. He has never seen anything so fucking hot in his entire shit-show of a life but he is also fairly sure he’s hallucinating – it wouldn’t be the first time he’s had this dream. He blinks several times but no, he’s still there. “Holy shit Pete,” he breathes. 

Peter’s eyes snap open, unfocused and dark, shining with something unworldly. “Wade?” His voice is hoarse and cracked.

“Um….yeessss?” Wade answers uncertainly, moving closer.

“Fuck Wade, I need…Oh god...” Something seems to wrack his body and he writhes on the bed, moaning darkly. 

“Er...am I interrupting? Shall I…? I should go...”

Before he can turn away, which he really doesn’t want to do, Peter’s voice snaps like the crack of a whip. “No!” He reaches out a hand, grabbing Wade’s arm with a grip like a vise. “Wade, I need...”

“Uh sure...what...what do you need Petey-pie?” Wade asks, unable to look away from the pulsing erection leaking against Peter’s abs. “I could...um...you want a glass of water?” he suggests awkwardly, licking his lips involuntarily and trying to turn away. 

“I’m on fire...my skin hurts...I can’t. It won’t stop,” Peter moans, releasing his grip and twisting away.

“What happened to you baby boy?” Wade leans down, dragging his gaze up to look into the other man’s eyes. He pulls a glove off with his teeth and lays a hand against Peter’s forehead. The burning heat of his skin and the shuddering groan that escapes his lips make Wade take a step back in shock. Peter’s eyes flutter closed and Wade lifts one of his eyelids carefully. His eyes have rolled back into his head and he is panting harder now, his mouth open. Wade moves his hand away but Peter is lightening fast, grabbing his hand again and dragging it down to his erection, pressing it against the hard flesh. Wade’s mouth goes dry and he tries to pull his hand back. Peter whines in frustration, bucking up into Wade’s palm.

“Whoa Petey,” Wade tries to move his hand away again but Peter is using every bit of his spidey strength to hold him there. His eyes open again, focusing on Wade with a fever-bright stare. 

“Wade...oh god I want you so bad. It hurts, everything hurts. All I can think of is...” his head drops back again and he lets out a ragged moan that could have had Wade shooting in his pants if he wasn’t so worried – not to mention confused. Peter presses his hand down again and Wade’s fingers tighten involuntarily around the rock hard shaft of his cock. Peter hisses, somewhere between pain and relief, like Wade just poured ice cold water on a burn. Wade tries very hard to ignore how good it feels to touch him, and how hard his own cock is now, straining against his pants.

“Peter!” he says sharply, using all his own strength to yank his hand away. Peter’s eyes snap open, suddenly focused and clear. “What happened to you?”

Peter blinks. “Accident,” he says, his voice is rough like he hasn’t drunk water for a week. “At the lab. Something spilled. Experiment.”

“Oh shit, we need to call Stark.”

Peter growls, shaking his head, bucking his hips again. “No!”

“You’re not right in the head baby boy.”

“It’s...I think its a massive dose of hormone. I just need...I need you to get me off...I can’t – I can’t do it, doesn’t work...I want you to fuck me Wade.”

Wade lets out a short bark of laughter. “I can’t tell you how much I really, really – and let me stress this – _really_ want to do that. But you’re basically drugged right now. This is not what you want, I guarantee it.”

Peter lets out a furious whine and lurches up, grabbing at Wade’s suit with both hands, dragging him forward and looking him right in the eye, his voice and gaze suddenly steady. “Don’t tell me what I want Wade. I want this. I need this. My skin feels like its two sizes too small, my chest feels like it might explode. If you don’t make me come soon I think I might actually die – which would be embarrassing – so you _need_ to do this for me. Please.”

Wade looks at him. He can feel his limited resolve crumbling – this is almost certainly a bad idea but if he needs to help Peter. The fallout will come later.

“I need this, Wade. You have no idea what you do to me...”

Wade barks a dry laugh. “ _I_ have no idea? Fuck baby boy, have you seen you?”

Peter smirks and reached for Wade’s belt. Wade watches as he unbuckles it and unzips his pants, attention rapt. When he finally reaches Wade’s cock Peter wraps a hand around it and groans in satisfaction. Wade bites his lip hard as Peter leans forward and swallows him down in one movement.

“Holy fuck!” His cock hits the back of Peter’s throat and he gasps as soft lips tighten around him and Peter begins to suck, bobbing his head and moaning like Wade’s cock is the best thing he’s ever tasted. His own cock stands straight up in his lap, twitching and drooling precum all over himself. His mouth is hot and wet and this is beyond anything Wade ever imagined in his most optimistic fantasies and he’s pretty sure he’s not going to last five minutes. 

“Pete...” he pants, resisting the urge to put his hands on the back of Peter’s head and fuck his mouth. “If you need...I mean, I’m not gonna--” he breaks off with a moan as Peter’s tongue slides around the head of his cock. He is definitely not going to make it to the main event at this rate. 

“C’mon Petey-pie, this is for...oh fuck!...medicinal purposes ok. You’re the one who needs--” He moans again, fisting his hand in Peter’s wild hair and thrusting forward. He feels bad at once but Peter lets out a wrecked sound and opens his throat wider, letting Wade fuck into his spit-slick mouth. His cock bobs in his lap, more precum dripping down the sides. Wade reaches down and wraps his hand around it, jerking him slowly. Peter’s eyes widen and he makes a sound in his throat that is almost a growl, pushing his cock up to meet Wade’s hand, sucking harder on the cock in his mouth. 

Sparks shoot up Wade’s spine and he feels the tightness, the pressure building. He’s going to lose it if he doesn’t do something. Someone’s got to have some self control here – he just never imagined it would be him. 

He lets go of Peter’s cock and puts both hands on his shoulders, pushing him away gently, but firmly. Peter lets him go with a whine and an obscene pop. Wade runs his thumb over Peter’s slick, swollen bottom lip, pressing inside for a second. Peter sucks it into his mouth, scraping lightly with his teeth while Wade chews on his own lip and whimpers.

Gathering his tattered faculties Wade pushes Peter until he’s lying on his back. He looks like a fucking wet dream – Wade can think of a few specific examples – his skin is slick and shiny with sweat that highlights his lean muscles, his hair is wet and his chest rises and falls quickly with his short panting breaths. He looks up at Wade with hooded eyes that seem to glitter in the dim light. 

Wade imagines for a moment what it would be like to see that look on his face without the benefit of experimental pharmaceuticals. He shakes his head, dismissing the thought, that kind of thinking isn’t getting him anywhere. He should just be grateful for this moment.

Peter reaches out for him, sliding his hands up over his chest and shoulders, pulling him down towards him. He murmurs wordlessly, or at least no words Wade can understand, then he pushes at the top of Wade’s suit, lifting it up, revealing the scarred skin of Wade’s abs. Wade shoves it down again with a short laugh. “Nothing you wanna see there Pete. Drugged or not, that’ll put you off the whole thing. Could be a miracle cure,” he mutters. But Peter seems adamant, he shoves at the leather again, pulling on straps and zippers, running his red hot hands over Wade’s abs as if he can’t get enough. Wade frowns and then shrugs, drops his weapons on the floor, strips off the top half of his suit and throws it into the corner. Peter sighs and runs his hands possessively over his skin, curling his fingers to dig into his muscles. 

Wade groans at the sensation, somewhere between pain and the best thing he has ever felt. He looks down. Peter’s breathing is harder now, his cock juts up, angry and red between his legs. His hands clench and flutter, reaching for Wade, then for himself. He whines, opening his legs wide and Wade knows what he has to do. But he doesn’t want to do it like this, for one he’s not entirely certain that Peter has done this before and he wants it to be as easy as possible and secondly, he’s not sure he can cope with seeing his face. So he pulls Peter up, manoeuvring him carefully until he is on his hands and knees facing away from him. Wade runs his hands over the taut hard muscle of Peter’s truly spectacular ass, teasing his thumb over his opening for a second. The moment he touches him there Peter hisses like a steam kettle and presses back, arching his back. Wade shoves his pants down a bit further, stroking his own leaking cock while he takes in the view. He needs to remember every moment of this because he’s going to need to play it back in glorious Technicolor with mother-fucking THX sound, every day for the rest of his miserable existence. With a short prayer of thanks to the creator and his inexplicable pouch fetish, he pulls out a tube of lube and squirts some onto his hand. 

He reaches down and slides his slick hand over his cock, slowly, watching rapt as Peter arches his back, pressing his ass against him, his dripping cock hanging rigid under him. 

“Wade!” Peter’s voice sounds pained but actually alert, like he’s in control again for a moment. “Wade please, fuck me. Please.”

Wade doesn’t need telling again. He takes his cock in hand and guides it to Peter’s hole, sliding the tip over him, slipping against hot skin, teasing at the rim. Peter cries out, a desperate sound, and Wade presses home. He goes slowly, carefully, giving Peter time to adjust but there is no resistance, no time needed to relax. Peter is more than ready and Wade is inside him to the hilt in one long movement. They both gasp with pleasure. It’s indescribable. Peter’s ass is tight and hot, so hot, like there’s a fire inside him. He grips Wade’s cock with his muscles and Wade is convinced he is going to cum in seconds. He closes his eyes and wills himself back from the edge. 

“Wade, oh fuck yes. This is what I need, I need your cock in me, need you to fill me up, fuck me Wade.”

Wade swallows hard, and begins to move, slowly, his scarred fingers grasping Peter’s ass, digging into the globes of flesh. He drags his cock out, inch by inch until Peter whines in desperation, then he slides back in with a groan, shuddering as he bottoms out. He carries on fucking Peter slowly, rolling his hips, revelling in the sensation, the heat, the pressure building in his groin. He has wanted to do this since the first time he set eyes on that ass but to say he never thought he’d get the chance would be a wild understatement. This might technically be emergency medical treatment but he wants to make this the best fuck Peter has ever had. Although probably not the longest. 

“Holy shit. That ass...always knew it would feel spectacular but it’s like...like...fuck I don’t know – it’s like nothing else,” he mumbles, semi-coherent as he quickens his thrusts, tightening his grip on Peter’s hips, his balls slapping against Peter’s slick skin. 

“Oh fuck yes, yes, yes,” Peter drops his head down, resting on his forearms as Wade pounds into him. Wade reaches down to Peter’s cock, hard as a steel rod and so soaked with precum that for a moment Wade thinks he already came. The thought of Peter coming untouched with his cock in his ass pushes Wade unexpectedly over the edge and with a groan he unloads inside him, hips stuttering as he shoves in deep, coming until his head spins.

Peter moans at the sensation, his cock jerks and he’s coming hard, spurting hot and white over the bed below him. He can feel Wade pumping into him, cum spilling over and running down his ass. His own cock is still twitching and jumping, splashes of cum splatter the sheets and he feels like he might never stop, his body is floating, burning up. 

Then he gasps as Wade pulls out and, as if a dial has slowly been turned down, everything drifts back into focus. The hazy feverishness is gone, his brain is clear, all that remains is the drifting warmth of pleasure that fills his body. He drops from his knees with a groan, landing on his stomach and looking back at Wade over his shoulder, the merc is standing with his cock still in his hand and his eyes closed, chest heaving, looking utterly wrecked. Peter smiles to himself, still feeling like he’s floating. Wade opens his eyes, his expression is completely shell-shocked. They lock eyes and at once all of Peter’s words and actions come flooding back to him. Peter is overwhelmed by utter horrified mortification. How could he have done that? Said those things, done those things. He had basically forced Wade to have sex with him. What if he didn’t want...just because he flirts a lot...he had tried to put him off! Hadn’t exactly jumped at the opportunity. 

Wade looks down at Peter’s stricken, wide-eyed expression. Here comes the fallout then, he thinks. He could try and explain but he has no real defence – he took advantage of the situation and that’s it. It was a good friendship while it lasted. He tucks himself back into his pants, closes his eyes for a moment then opens his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” they both say it at the same time then blink in confusion.

“ _You’re_ sorry?” again in unison.

“Ok, stop doing that,” Wade says. Peter frowns. 

“I made you have sex with me.” Peter says, looking horrified.

“You didn’t make me do shit. You were drugged and I was too fucking pathetic and desperate to do the right thing.”

“I basically threw myself at you.”

“Doesn’t matter. You weren’t in control.”

“But I was, I was! I knew what I was doing, one hundred percent. It was just like...like everything in my head that says, _you can’t behave like that, you can’t say that, this might be a bad idea, what if he doesn’t feel the same? What if he thinks I’m a slut?_ All that was gone and I could just do whatever the fuck I wanted. It was like actually being in control of myself for the first time in my life – really me – not my mind, not my inhibitions,” Peter looks away. “But that doesn’t make it ok because I didn’t listen to you. I’m sorry.”

Wade frowns for a moment then reaches out and cups his hand around Peter’s jaw, pulling him gently back to face him, Peter’s eyes are bright but there is no feverish blankness now. 

Wade runs his thumb over Peter’s lip softly. “You clearly didn’t listen because if you had I think you would have heard how I was very much on board with all of that. I was worried for you but that was very much overshadowed by how much I wanted my dick in your ass. That’s why I feel bad, not because you ‘made me’ fuck you.

“Anyway, it seems kinda dumb to just spend the next hour or so trying to out-guilt each other over what was, without a doubt, the best sex of my life, so lets just – I don’t know – go our separate ways? I get that you probably don’t wanna hang out any more,” he says sadly.

“Hmm,” Peter hums softly against Wade’s thumb, still pressed against his lip. “We could do that. We could go back to how we used to be, bored and alone, that’s probably the safe bet. Or we could try and go back to the way things were yesterday, being friends and not mentioning any of this, not mentioning how we feel, just saving it up for long sleepless nights and jerking off in the shower - that was working just fine for me – I mean, apart from the constant tiredness and not being able to concentrate on anything else,” he stops and looks up into Wade’s eyes and flicks his tongue against his thumb. “Or, we could see about making this a regular part of the repertoire? Patrolling, saving the world, eating crappy food, playing video games and fucking – a lot. How does that sound? Worth a try?”

Wade makes a croaking noise that the Boxes will mock him mercilessly about for years to come and Peter drags him down and crushes their lips together.

He will mention precisely none of this to Stark and Banner.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m on Tumblr at [cliophilyra](https://cliophilyra.tumblr.com) Come and say hi! :)


End file.
